


Just Don’t Go Unscrewing the Cap

by RiYuYami



Category: Good Omens (Radio), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Just blending the TV show with the Radio program for some drama, M/M, Radio Omens, The Holy Water incidents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23193718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiYuYami/pseuds/RiYuYami
Summary: Insurance, he said, that’s why he needed something that would only do him the worst kind of harm.Why did Aziraphale need to give Crowley holy water, what is there to gain? To lose?(A take on Crowley trying to get holy water, in the Radio Omens universe)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8





	1. 1862

**Author's Note:**

> Got another Radio Omens fanfic for ya, once more based on elements from the show, specifically the holy water buildup.
> 
> I do like that their history together is left so open, like, there is so much you can come up with for the Radio boys, but at the same time, I also love the idea that they share a similar history to their Drama counterparts.
> 
> So, at the very least, I decided to just rewrite the two times that holy water is mentioned by Crowley in the show before he finally gets the thermos in the 1960s, but through the perspectives of the Ineffable Husbands from the radio broadcast.
> 
> This is also being written cause I really also wanna write about Aziraphale tricking nazis in the 1940s, and for Crowley to come save him, along with thinking of what Crowley looked like in the 1960s.
> 
> Warning: Radio universe with elements stolen from the TV universe and a little from the Book one too, minor character death, emotional talks between Crowley and Aziraphale, Crowley and Aziraphale have romantic/platonic relationship that’s been going on since the days of Eden 
> 
> On with the fic!

The sun broke through the dusty, faded curtains of the nearly empty flat, the only sounds were what were muffled by the window, just the usual sounds of the streets below.

Crowley sat on his bed, having been awake when the world was still dark, his mind racing a mile a second. This was going to be a dreadful day, he knew it would be, but he had no choice, it’s been bugging him for a while now.

He knew that he had to speak with Aziraphale today, if he didn’t, he’d never be able to. A snap of his fingers, and Crowley found himself in the dress of the day, even if his knowledge of the day wasn’t the greatest. His naps were the longest they’ve ever been since he discovered sleeping, but this was due to his own hand.

The demon was sleeping to avoid the world, to avoid Hell, to avoid Aziraphale.

He cared about the angel, his dearest friend, his powerful adversary, his… lover, if he were to put a name to what they were to one another. It’s been a bit of a rough time, since the celestial being had opened his bookshop in 1800.

Heaven had tried to take him away, saying he was doing so well that they actually were willing to promote him! Heaven doesn’t just give those away all willy-nilly now, but Crowley had seen the look of horror cross Aziraphale’s face when he was told he was to leave Earth behind.

Crowley had been quick, tricking the angels that had come for his angel, letting them know that Aziraphale was constantly stopping the forces of Hell, that he was their best agent to keep protecting God’s favorite project. But something after that had happened, demons had gotten more… cocky, had decided to really up their game lately.

Wars were becoming more of a thing, and several demons really got to work keeping War happy, which in turn excited her friends into coming out more.

Aziraphale had been busy, doing his best to take care of some of these buggers, with Crowley secretly helping, as per their arrangement.

But was it enough? To trick demons, or even just simply discorporate them to get them off their backs and settle things down?

What if a demon found out what Crowley had been helping an angel? Had been literally sleeping with the enemy!? And taking him out to dinner, drinking wine and scotch in his sitting room, even getting him first-edition books that he had yet to get his hands on?

Crowley needed to speak with Aziraphale, tell him his plan for getting some insurance.

He looked at the note that rested on the bed with him, one of two he had scribbled down. The first one he picked up was suddenly gone from his fingers, to appear in front of Aziraphale. Considering the time of day… it would end up in his cup of tea or cocoa, whichever sounded good this morning to the guy.

The second note… Crowley put into his pocket before getting up, making his way for the door.

\--

“I got your note.” Aziraphale huffed, holding up the stained piece of paper. “I don’t see why you have to send me things like this in my food and drinks, my dear boy.”

Crowley smirked, looks like he was correct in where his note ended up. He then straightened up and looked out at the water in front of him. He had asked for Aziraphale to meet him at St. James’ Park, their usual meeting place, to ‘feed the ducks’, their code for talking.

He glanced at the angel, seeing him throwing breadcrumbs from out of his hat at the happy ducks in front of them. Aziraphale’s face was calm, but he knew the other was curious, the note didn’t say much, but it meant that something important needed to be discussed.

“I’ve been thinking.” Crowley started.

“Goodness, I had no idea you could do that.” Aziraphale replied, his usual smile on his lips, the one that screamed that he was being a bit of a bastard and he knew it.

Crowley glared at him from behind his shades. “Shut up, angel. No, I was thinking… what if it all goes wrong?”

Aziraphale’s smile slipped. “What goes wrong? The Arrangement? We’ve been careful about it for centuries, and we will continue to do so.”

“I know, but… still, we have a lot in common.”

“Well, we may have both started off as angels, but need I remind you that you are Fallen.” Aziraphale commented, tossing a few more crumbs at the ducks, offering his hat to Crowley.

The demon took a few and started throwing with a little more force, getting an angry quake when a piece hit a duck in the eye. “I didn’t really Fall, you know, just… sauntered vaguely downward, that’s all. Look, I need a favour.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “Odd, you normally don’t ask for you unless if I’m supposed to be saving your backside from a problem you caused.”

“I know.”

“Is it the Arrangement? Do we need to update our conditions? Or is it…” He gestured between the two of them. Neither ever addressed what the other part of their relationship was, it was best to never actually speak of it aloud, just in case. They knew it existed, that it was there, that it was real, but it was too dangerous to say anything.

You never know who was watching nowadays, too many demons about, several angels having to give Aziraphale backup…

“This is… for if things all go pear-shape.” He ignored the small comment of liking pears that Aziraphale said under his breath. Best to say it now before he runs away like the coward he could be at times. “If it all goes wrong. I want insurance.”

This seemed to confuse the lighter-haired man. He dumped out the rest of the crumbs before putting his hat back on, not a single crumb would be on his head. “Insurance? Crowley, whatever do you mean?” He knew this was a heavy word, that there was something to it, something Crowley couldn’t even look him in the eyes about as he answered.

The demon pulled something from his black coat, handing it to a gloved hand. “I wrote it down, cause, ya know, walls have ears. Hmm… no walls here, well, trees then, they have ears.”

He looked at the ducks. “Ducks, ducks have ears. Do ducks have ears?” Now he was distracting himself. “Must do, right? If they didn’t, how’d they hear other ducks?”

Aziraphale ignored the ramblings of the man next to him, looking instead at the small slip of paper, carefully folded. In handwriting he knew all too well, were two words that made him tense, turning his head sharply to look right at Crowley with a hard stare. “Out of the question!”

“Why not?” Crowley asked, eyes still on the ducks, his own body tense. He knew it, he knew he’d get rejected, but he hoped Aziraphale would hear him out.

“It will destroy you!” The shorter man hissed, keeping his voice low so only Crowley could hear. “I am not, nor will I ever, bring you a suicide pill. You think I can just hand you something like that so easily? No, I will not play along with whatever horrible idea you have in your head.”

Crowley turned, giving him his own hard look. “That’s not what it’s for, it’s not for me! It’s insurance, I told you.”

“Insurance?” Aziraphale glared down at the paper before tearing it down the fold, pushing the two pieces at Crowley. “Crowley, this is serious! This is the worst thing you could ever ask me to get for you! I’ve done plenty of terrible things over the years in exchange for you doing wonderous ones, but I-I can’t do this.”

He ran a hand down his face, he looked angry, upset. It wasn’t often that the normally calm man would react like this. Crowley really fucked up this time.

“I’m not an idiot, Crowley. Do you know how much trouble I’d get into if they knew,” He glanced up at the sky, “I’d been fraternizing? Then to just give one of Hell’s agents a tool like that!?”

Crowley felt a sudden sharpness in his chest, fraternizing? Is that what he wants to call nearly six thousand years of friendship? Love? “Fraternizing? Are you serious right now?”

Aziraphale looked away, crossing his arms. “It’s too risky right now, I shouldn’t even be here with you right now! It’s… whatever it is, isn’t it? We never did figure out a name for any of this, but… look, I don’t think there is any point in discussing this topic further, or ever again. I will not give you it, Crowley, I can’t.”

The demon lowered his shades just a little, his eyes sharp and hard as they stared at Aziraphale. They showed hurt, and Aziraphale saw it, but refused to address it. “I have lots of other people to ‘fraternise’ with, angel.” He snipped, pulling back, his glasses covering his eyes once more.

The other man stood there, looking up once more. “Of course you do, serpent.”

“I don’t need you.” Crowley hissed, doing so on purpose. “I knew you’d be useless in this; I ask for one little thing, and of course you’d never do it, heavenly virtue or something, right? Can’t even help a demon who is in need of help?”

Aziraphale said nothing, snatching back the two pieces of paper and tossing them into the waters, watching them burn. “Crowley.”

“Aziraphale.”

“I don’t know why you need it, but I will not give you something that will kill you and take you away from me.” He adjusted his coat and turned on his heel, stepping away.

But he stopped, glancing over his shoulder. “It would be for the best… if we are not seen together again, at least until things clear up. Not unless if it’s an emergency. Until then…” He gave a small wave and continued onward.

Before Crowley could reply, Aziraphale was gone, lost from sight by slipping past a group of people. No sign of the man in light tans and blue. Crowley looked at the remains of the fire, before it went out. He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing loudly.

“Damn it. Could have done that better…”

He needed a nap, this century didn’t need him stirring up trouble, maybe things will be better in the next one.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used the script book to help with some of the dialogue, but I changed it up cause the Radio Omens boys talk a lot, and I figured that with their personalities, their reactions would be a bit different from the TV ones.
> 
> Still, I feel like Aziraphale would not be happy with Crowley asking for holy water but wouldn’t react quite like how TV Aziraphale did.
> 
> Anyway, next chapter has the church scene and there will be an aftermath.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please comment and kudos!


	2. 1941

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s 1941, the War is going strong in England and Aziraphale finds himself finishing up a deal with two suspicious characters he thinks he can take on with no trouble.
> 
> At least he has an unexpected back up plan.
> 
> But is it worth it for the conversation that comes after all is said and done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s part two of Radio Crowley’s attempts at getting holy water.
> 
> Warning: nazi idiots, minor character death, Crowley and Aziraphale have A Talk with one another, brief description of burns
> 
> Once again, using the script book, and I’m tweaking some of the lines because of how the characters talk in the radio program. I also changed the prophesy from Agnes, simply as a little homage to the Good Omens Musical. It's not the same one, but it is similar. 
> 
> The script book says they haven’t spoke in a hundred years (technically it hasn't been THAT long), but I think that’s a load of crock, so I’d like to think they have met up, but not as often as before, things are still… tense. Also, that’s never stopped the fandom from drawing/writing/headcanoning them doing things together between the Holy Water incident and the Church moment, so it’s not gonna stop me either.
> 
> On with the fic!

Aziraphale stared up at the looming building before him, the dark skies making it feel more uncomfortable than it needed to be. It was a church, this is a place of safety for an angel, but what will happen here is not safe in any way.

Well, but that’s only if things go, as Crowley puts it, pear-shaped.

He frowned at the thought of his demonic friend. Their argument decades ago was still itching at the back of Aziraphale’s head, sure, Crowley played it off as if it were a passing thought now, like it was just him panicking at a time when tensions between demons and angels was a little too high for either beings’ comforts.

The early 1900s hadn’t seen much trouble, so there was no need to ask for the ‘insurance’, but Aziraphale feared Crowley would have asked again during The Great War, especially after they were forced into the battlefields themselves.

But Crowley never said a word, he just told the angel that this was all humanity’s doing, though he suspects that Hastor may or may not have had a hand in the assassination plot of the Archduke, but the demon just suspects that the other had just wanted the credit.

The Depression brought no mentions either, but now? With this new war? Aziraphale hadn’t seen Crowley in two years and he feared the worse for the man, he hoped he hadn’t gotten discorporated by a bombing, it had nearly happened to Aziraphale a few months back. He had almost been crushed by a chunk of a building when he was performing miracles to lessen the death toll.

He was suspicious as to how he survived, but he didn’t question it.

That was the least of his troubles now though, as right now he was tangled in a terrible situation with terrible people.

He had been brought into a situation where he was to collect the rarest of the rare of prophesy books for two men who clearly had ties with those damned nationalist socialist workers party members from Germany.

Aziraphale wasn’t a stupid man, he could be a bit flighty, but he was quick to suspect evil after centuries upon centuries of being around humans and a demon who smelled very much not-evil compared to the people Aziraphale was about to meet.

Straightening his bowtie, Aziraphale stepped into the church, feeling only slightly better as the holy energy radiating from inside. However, he could smell the evil circling about in the air, though the two men at the end of the church probably had no idea. He put on a plastic smile, the same kind he gives to people who try to take a chance of leaving his bookshop with one of his books.

“Mr. Glozier? Mr. Harmony?” Aziraphale greeted, removing his hat, his grip on the bag in his other hand tightened ever so.

Glozier, the thicker of the two Nazi spies, nodded his head in greeting. “Mr. Fell, you are late, but not to worry.” He smiled, and Aziraphale tried not to slap it off his face.

“You have the books for the Fuhrer?” Harmony asked, Aziraphale noted that he looked a bit like Peter Lorre, and not in a good way.

Keeping the smile on his face, the angel lifted up the bag he had. “I do, yes.” He replied before setting it down on a table that was prepared for this. He steps back, watching as Harmony opens the bag to remove each of the very old, very rare books.

Aziraphale had to keep from shoving him out of the way, some of those books were from his own collection, others were ones he painstakingly collected over the past few months, and if all goes well, they’ll be on his shelves by tomorrow morning.

“Books of Prophecy.” Aziraphale stated, smiling with a little more truthfulness to it, he was rather proud of what he had found. “Otwell Binns, Robert Nixon, Mother Shipton, of course. All first editions! As you requested, gentlemen.”

Harmony gave a nod, before frowning as he looked over the books once more. “What about the other book we told you to bring us? The Fuhrer was most definite that he needed it! It has the prophecies that are true, with that book, the war is as good as won.”

Aziraphale’s smile dropped and he sighed. Ah, yes, _that_ book. The one he’s been wanting in his collection for so long, and he wished he had been in England was it had been on shelves for just a short period, but work called him away… “Ah, yes, _The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch._ No luck, sadly, as I’m afraid it is the Holy Grail of prophetic books.”

Glozier snorted. “The Fuhrer also wants the Holy Grail. And the Spear of Destiny, if you happen to run across them…”

It took everything in Aziraphale’s corporation to not laugh at that. Fat chance! Both of those are happily sitting in a locker in Heaven’s archives!

“Why are there no copies of Agnes Nutter’s book?” The Peter Lorre-looking spy asked. “We have made it very clear that money is no object, Mr. Fell. You will be a very rich man.”

The dirty blond had no need for the money they offered, but he could understand why a human would happily hand over such a rare book. “The unsold copies of _Nice and Accurate Prophecies_ , I’m afraid, were destroyed by the publisher, which is… um… well, all of them.” Except one, but even Aziraphale had no clue where it was.

“It never sold a single copy, sad to say, published at the wrong time, from what I heard, and the contents weren’t what the people wanted during a time where everyone who had a pen and paper could just spit out whatever came to mind. However!” He smiled proudly. “I was able to find the publisher’s catalogue for 1655, and it did list one of Agnes Nutter’s prophecies!”

Harmony raised an eyebrow. “What was it?”

“Her prophecy for 1997. ‘Do not upgrade to Windows 98’.”

The two men looked at him funny. “What does it mean to… upgrade ninety-eight windows?” Glozier asked.

Aziraphale shrugged. “I have no idea!”

Harmony just gave a nod, returning to the books at hand. “Well, I will pass it onto the Fuhrer. You have been most helpful, Mr. Fell, here is the money. You can count it, but it should all be there.” He pushed a paper bag towards the angel, who picked it up.

“Ah, lovely, jolly good.” He was about to open it, when a gun was suddenly pointed right at him. He blinked, looking at the fatter spy, who seemed pleased as peaches.

“Such a pity you must be eliminated, Mr. Fell.” The man chuckled. “But take heart, just another death in the Blitz, yes?”

Aziraphale huffed, looking at the gun as if it were a fly trying to touch his cake, or a certain snake trying to reach for his specific glass of wine. “That’s not very sporting, gentlemen.”

Glozier’s grin dropped, puzzled. “You do not appear worried, my friend.” He paused, looking over at the sound of heels on the hard floor. A beautiful woman, wearing clothes too nice for civilian clothing in this time of war, walked down the aisle towards them, her hand holding a gun as well as she stepped next to Aziraphale. A smug smile came to the angelic being’s face as he looked at the two German men.

“He’s not worried.” The newcomer said, smiling herself.

“… Who is she?” Harmony asked, glaring at Aziraphale.

The angel looked very proud, and he should be! Just before this business had started, this young woman had stepped in to help him to take down these two and their ring of Nazi bastards!

“She, my double-dealing Nazi acquaintances,” Aziraphale started, the smug smile still on his lips, “is the reason why none of those books are ever going to Berlin and shall return to my bookshop before the night is over. And! And… why your nasty, little spy ring will be spending the rest of the war and years beyond it behind bars!”

He gestured to her with a bit of a flare of dramatics. “Let me introduce you to Captain Rose Montgomery of British Military Intelligence!”

Rose chuckled lightly. “Thank you for the introduction, Mr. Fell.”

“My pleasure, my dear miss. Now, our side knows all about you two! She recruited me to ‘work’ for you. Now, she’s going to tell you that this building is surrounded by British agents,” He missed the look on her face, “and that you two have been… oh, what is that absolutely lovely American expression…? Oh, yes! Played for suckers!”

“Yes, about that…” Rose started, but Aziraphale loudly shouted for people to step out and take action.

There was a pause, there was nothing, and Aziraphale realized that something was amiss.

Harmony chuckled, looking rather amused. “We are all here.”

And it was at this moment that Aziraphale truly understood what it meant for a situation to go pear-shaped, as a gun was suddenly pressed right in his face, just an inch or two from his nose. Rose was smirking at him and he felt so incredibly stupid! He was double-crossed while he had attempted to double-cross!

He could practically hear Crowley’s voice in his head, telling him that this was a new low for him, as he heard that Rose’s real name was Greta Kleinschmidt and that she actually worked for them. They spoke in German to each other, which Aziraphale completely understood.

He didn’t like very much that he was called a shithead and that they were gloating about him having a rather dumb moment.

Harmony chuckled once more as he turned to put the books back into the leather bag. “Ah, ‘played for suckers’. I must remember that.” He said to himself, repeating the phrase with other pronouns.

“Where were we?” Glozier asked before lifting his gun again. “Oh yes, killing you.”

Aziraphale stepped back, looking offended. “You can’t kill me! There will be paperwork!” Oh, what he wouldn’t give for a miracle at this moment…

There was a very loud slamming of doors being thrown open and striking walls. Followed quickly by someone repeatedly hissing and shouting ‘ow’ over and over.

The four turned sharply to the intruder and Aziraphale was not expecting this to be the miracle he had silently prayed for, because one does not pray for a demon to be his saving grace in a moment of death!

Dressed to the nines in a black suit with a striking red tie, something that would be common in his wardrobe down the line, was Crowley. He was walking as if there was something in his shoes and it clearly looked rather painful, there was no attempt at even trying to appear suave at all by the dark-haired demon.

“Sorry!” Crowley shouted as he tried to walk down the aisle, but it came off more as the dance of a really drunk man. “Owowowow! Consecrated ground! It’s like being at the beach… hhiiiissssssss!!! Being at the beach in bare feet!”

He hissed once more, Aziraphale could actually hear the sizzling of his skin from here, even saw a little smoke coming from the bottom of those rather nice snakeskin shoes he wore. “What are you doing here?!” Aziraphale finally found his voice and was quick to step forward.

“Stopping you from getting into trouble!” Crowley replied before bouncing on one foot for a second. “Hell’s teeth!”

The angel huffed, as if this was just another conversation between them and that there wasn’t a threat of death at all. “I should have known, oh, of course, these people are working for your lot, aren’t they? Makes perfect sense!”

Crowley had every right to look as offended as he did at that moment. “Heaven, no! They’re just a bunch of half-witted Nazi moron spies, running about London, blackmailing and murdering people! Sounds like my people, but we’re not really bothering too much with this right now! FUCK! Ow, bless this stupid floor! A-anyway! I just didn’t want to see you embarrassed! Satan corrupt this place!”

He tries to lean against a pew, but that just makes the sizzling more obvious and he moves to keep stepping in place now that he’s close enough to the four. Aziraphale visibly softened at Crowley saying, in his very Crowley-ish way, that he basically came to protect him.

That made the angel smile a little, it was nice to know that Crowley still cared, even with the strain on their relationship.

Glozier raised an eyebrow, realizing who had cursed their presence. He smirked a bit. “Ah, the mysterious Anthony J. Crowley! Your fame precedes you!”

Aziraphale cocked an eyebrow at this. “Anthony?” He didn’t remember Crowley using that name, but then again, he’s used so many names over the years, and often just said his name was Crowley to make things easier with people.

Crowley paused, looking like he made a mistake. “You don’t like it?” He sounded like a kid who was nervous that he wouldn’t get praise for doing something good.

The angel’s smile grew just a little. “No, I didn’t say that, my dear. I’ll get used to it.” This seemed to make the demon perk up, until Greta distracted them both.

“The famous Mr. Crowley?” She asked. “Such a pity you must both die.”

“What does the J stand for?” Aziraphale asked, completely ignoring the Nazis.

Crowley opened his mouth, before closing it, looking a bit embarrassed. “It’s… just a J, really.” Something caught his attention and he gasped, lifting his shades for just a moment, snake eyes focused on a stone vessel nearby.

“Look at that!” He exclaimed. “A whole font-full of holy water, it doesn’t even have guards!”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, so Crowley was still after holy water? And what did he mean by ‘guards’, holy water never has it. Did hellfire have guards? He was distracted from this train of thought when Glozier exclaimed that he was tired of their talking and for them to just be killed now.

Crowley shifted on his feet, trying to appear more serious, even with his constantly moving legs. “Ah, ah! In about a minute, a German bomber will release a bomb that will land right here!” He gestured to the church. “If you all run away very, VERY fast, you might not die! I mean, you won’t enjoy dying, believe me, and you _definitely_ won’t enjoy what comes after. Seriously, believe me on that last part, I know what I’m talking about.”

Glozier clucked his tongue. “You expect us to believe that? The bombs tonight will fall on the East End?”

The demon hissed through his teeth, not from pain, but more for ‘welp, it’s your funeral then’. “Understandable for you to assume that’s still the plan. However, it would take a late-minute demonic intervention to throw them off course, yeah? You are all wasting your valuable running-away time. But! If, in thirty seconds, a bomb does land here, it would take a _real_ miracle for my friend and I to survive it?”

Aziraphale gave him a look, a knowing one, as he crossed his arms. “A _real_ miracle?”

“Yep!”

Harmony rolled his eyes, tired of this. “Kill them! They are very irritating.”

Greta held up her gun at the angel, about to fire, when she and the others paused, hearing a very sharp whistle above their heads. For hundreds of feet in the air, a German bomber just released a small bomb and it was now quickly hurtling towards the church. Aziraphale offered the startled woman a quick smile as he held up his hand.

Snap.

\--

The church was nothing more than rubble now, with only a few things surviving such a devastating blast to one centered location. A beautiful statue of a bird taking flight remained where it had, barely damaged, a few walls somewhat stood, with some of their windows barely intact, and two figures stood amongst the no-longer holy remains.

Aziraphale dusted himself off before straightening his bow once more, turning to the demon who was trying to get dust out of his hair. “That was very kind of you, dear.” He spoke up over the crackling of fire around them. He got a look from Crowley, but that didn’t stop him from smiling at him.

“Well, it was,” Aziraphale informed him before putting his hat back on, “I mean, no paperwork, for a start!”

He then froze up and looked to where the table had been moments before, a look of horror and sadness crossed his face. “The books! I… I forgot all the books! No, no, some of those were signed for me, gifts! They’ll have been blown to…”

He trailed off, watching Crowley reaching down at a hand that stuck out of a pile of rubble, pulling something from it without a care in the world. He held up the leather bag, a cool smile on his lips as he handed it over to the other man.

“Just a little demonic miracle of my own. Lift home?” With that said, he stepped over the legs of what had once been Greta, and made his way towards the streets, to his lovely Bentley.

Aziraphale stood there, looking at the bag in his arms, gently pressing it close as his attention turned to the demon. He smiled softly before following after.

\--

“That was rather stupid of you to do,” Aziraphale frowned, wincing as he watched Crowley painfully remove his shoes from his feet, “you couldn’t have stopped them another way?”

“Only thing… hhhh! Shit! Only thing I could do…” Crowley bit his lip as he finally got his shoe off, looking at his feet. They were horribly red, burnt, with a bit of blood on them. His socks were completely ruined, no bottom to them at all, and Aziraphale realized he was going to have to spend a bit of time patching them up.

They were in the bookshop, hidden from the world. The bag of books was resting on the couch with Crowley as Aziraphale got his first aid kit out. He really didn’t need one, but having worked as an army doctor during the previous war had gotten him into the habit of keeping one around.

And it’s a good thing too, seeing as his angelic healing would only cause more harm to Crowley, and the man clearly could not automatically heal holy burns. He’d heal like a human from them, but Aziraphale could at least use human treatments to help with the pain. With a snap of his fingers, a warm bowl of water and some rags sat on his coffee table as he sat himself on the floor with the kit.

He made a face at the damage, but he had seen worse. The smell, however, hurt, it smelled like a dreadful combination of Hell, Heaven, and burnt flesh. “Thank you for rescuing me, you didn’t have to do it.”

“I didn’t want you dying, especially over something stupid.” Crowley replied, leaning back against the couch, now holding a glass of scotch in his hand. Aziraphale didn’t question him about where he got it.

“How did you know where I was? What was happening?”

“Been… watching, from a distance. Hell doesn’t have anything for me to do right now, they’re letting some other demons stir up trouble in other places, but London has it’s own problems and they think it’s fun to sit back and watch the chaos. Which left me time to keep an eye on you. Found out about the spy ring thing, had to figure out how to keep you safe.”

He took a long sip from the glass as Aziraphale listened, lifting up his right foot to gently dab it with a wet cloth. He nearly cried out at the feeling, but he pushed it back. “I… I got there a bit late, what with the Blitz… but I got there in time. Didn’t think of a big plan, just knew I had to keep you from getting sent back Upstairs. Hence why I stupidly went inside.”

The angel was quiet as he listened, glancing up at golden eyes. “I don’t know how to repay you, for saving me and my books.”

Crowley was quiet now, glancing away. “The insurance, could be payment.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Crowley…”

“Aziraphale, please. It’s all I’m asking for; you know I never ask for much from you.”

Reaching for an ointment, Aziraphale got to work on trying to cover the burns with it, this’ll help. He ignored the cry of pain, knowing it was working. “I know, my dear boy, I know. But you have to look at this from my perspective. You are asking for something dangerous, something that kills your kind in the worst possible way. I know an angel would be happy to give it to you, by throwing it into your face, but I’m not like that.”

He stopped, looking down, sighing softly. “I can’t be the one who kills you. I can’t be the one to give you something that could kill you if one little accident happens. I’d never live with myself.”

“I’d give you hellfire, in exchange.” Crowley offered, getting a headshake.

“It would be too risky if we both had something like that.” He moved to work on the other foot after he wrapped up the first. They sat quietly in the shop, the only sounds being from outside. The silence between them was heavy, Crowley doing his best to not make pained noises as he was being bandaged up.

Then Aziraphale broke it, speaking quietly. “When things get worse, when I know that it’s the only way… I’ll give it to you. But you must never speak a word of where you got it.”

This caught Crowley by surprise. “What?”

“You heard me.” Aziraphale stood up with the bloody rags and water. “Get some rest, dear. You’ll need to start healing as soon as possible and I heard rest helps. You may stay the night.”

“Angel…”

Aziraphale moved to take the bowl to the kitchen of his shop. “Crowley, please rest. Thank you again for what you did, I’ll never forget it, but I would like for you to rest now.”

Crowley didn’t argue. He just carefully laid himself down on the couch and sighed.

Aziraphale was out of sight in the kitchen, setting the items down on the counter before he gripped it tightly. He didn’t want to do it, he didn’t want to give Crowley something so dangerous, but… in due time, he was sure he’d have to.

He couldn’t predict the future like his books, no, angels can’t really do that sort of thing, but he had a feeling that holy water would come in handy for the demon.

He just hoped it wasn’t for Crowley to use on himself.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW! Nine pages, wasn’t expecting that.
> 
> But yes, next will be the groovy sixties scene that makes me heart hurt! 
> 
> Thank for reading, please comment and kudos!


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